I haven't written in over a month. Nothing has changed. Mark still hasn't talked to me. It's been 71 fucking days. Over 2 months.
What's ironic is that the Dixie fire started burning 2 days after we last talked, and it's still burning. It's still raging, just like my heart.
I was ok for a while. I still think about Mark every day. I don't know when I won't. But I wasn't crying every day.
These last few days? I've been a fucking mess.
Mark's birthday was last Thursday. I wanted to send him a txt so bad. Or a fucking email. But I didn't. Why would it matter? At the time he had 67 days to reach out to me and never did.
Does he remember what I said to him back in June? Come visit for your birthday in September... I guess at the time I still assumed we would still be talking 3 months later. I didn't think WEEKS later we'd be over. Ha.
I still think back to that day. July 11. If it hadn't been raining and I had been in my pool... If I had answered when he called. If his calls had gone through. If my calls had gone through. If I hadn't sent that fucking txt.... IF IF IF
Every day I wonder what he's doing. If he's happy. If he's still working all the time. If he still wants a divorce.
But the question is... Is he still thinking about me?
He made me an addict and he knows this. He knows that when he disappears I have to quit cold turkey. He knows that every time he comes back I relapse. He knows that every time I use more and more and more.
I am fucking miserable.